It's the Fault of the Kid in the Dress
by Sanpizil
Summary: In which Ciel and Sebastian share, or don't, an intimate moment- or a non-intimate one. Complete whimsy.


Continuing my trend of having a lot of spare time, please. I really don't own these people and make no claims to!

* * *

He'd never really _thought_ about that kind of thing before. Really- never. He'd been interested in other things- politics and intrigue and people trying very hard to kill him. He'd had functions to attend and a fiancee to pander to, an estate to manage and a company to oversee, and on top of all that he'd been trying very hard to reestablish some semblance of a normal life.

But two nights after Alois licked his ear (and really, he hadn't been fooled after that moment, mostly because women with bosoms that shapely wore _perfume_) Ciel lay awake. He was gazing at the posters of his bed, eyes wide opened, staring into the dark. And, as he did nothing at all, his mind slipped back to the feeling. Being petted- even in such an odd context- hadn't been bad. The fingers against his neck, his scalp, had in fact felt good. And no, no, he hadn't resisted at all when Alois had leaned towards him. Idly, Ciel wondered what would have happened if he'd gone for the lips. Knowing where that ill-mannered brat's seal was… hm. He could imagine what might have happened.

It excited him.

But not with Alois. No, that idea was enough to slow his heart down to a low thud against his ribs. Who, then?

Ciel shifted and tucked himself more firmly under the covers, petting a hand over his ribs as if to test how it felt. Not the same, coming from himself, but if he closed his eyes and thought… mm. Not Lizzy- she was still a child, still enthusiastic and energetic and busy with thoughts of her life. This- this slow-unfurling _thing_ that had unravelled in him like a hidden parcel hadn't shown in her yet. (And now that it was opening inside him, he felt as if it had always been there.)

Sebastian? Well, he was a man, but there was no shame in that when none of this would ever happen anyway. Alois was a man- haha, well, Ciel's own sex at least- too.

So Ciel tossed his head back, reached under his covers, and began to stroke himself. If Sebastian were to come to him like _that…_ and what an enormous, impossible _if_ that was… he wouldn't be satisfied with just a lick. No, he would trace his tongue over his young master's ear, and then give- just the _faintest_- tug with his teeth. Ciel gave a shaky exhale as he closed his eyes- all the better to see with his mind's eye, of course.

And if he jerked and huffed in surprise at being _nibbled_, Sebastian would laugh at him. Mock him, perhaps, though gently, in that completely uncorrectable way he had. And then Sebastian would lean in and try to kiss him on the mouth, but he'd turn away. Reject him. Sebastian wouldn't tolerate that, though- not when they were twined so close in every other way.

So he'd capture Ciel's face in those long-fingered, ever-gloved hands, and search out his master's lips, and _kiss_ him. (Ciel groaned softly, biting his pillow, hips jerking, as he imagined what kind of kiss would come from a demon older, and thus more experienced, than the Phantomhive name itself.) Of course Ciel would object, but that would just mean that Sebastian would be able to get himself into his master's mouth- no permissions asked, none granted.

Ciel imagined he'd like it, in the same sin-ridden way he'd liked being petted by a boy dressed as a woman. And so he would open his mouth more completely to his servant- and be denied. Sebastian would pull away, chuckling. His lips would be wet, shining in the moonlight. 'Not tonight,' he'd tell Ciel, and tuck him into bed as chastely as a matron would.

And Ciel would lie in bed, and think, and fantasize. (Like now, he mused, and shivered at the sudden spike of heat that blending of fantasy and reality shot through him.)

Maybe a week or two later, Ciel would have almost completely forgotten about the incident. Or- perhaps- dismissed it as some kind of demonish whim. Demonic mating season? (The idea made Ciel snort into his pillow, and for some reason the idea of Sebastian in that stag-head popped to mind.) Either way, he would be getting ready to sleep again. Sebastian would be, as always, helping him. Fresh from the bath, he'd be naked under his towel, and expecting his nightwear.

But Sebastian would approach him with nothing at all in his arms, a smile as wicked as the origin of sin itself on his face, and Ciel would know. 'Ah,' he'd say, just to let the demon know he was on to him. Sebastian would ('ah!' gasped Ciel, and rolled his thumb over the tip of his firming prick again) take off his gloves with his teeth, leaning over Ciel, and then cup his jaw in a bare hand and kiss him. He'd have to lean over terribly, and that would dissatisfy him- though of course he'd never admit to something so human as a backache.

Picking Ciel up would seem natural at that point, and Ciel, so absorbed in being kissed brainless, would accept the contact. He'd unthinkingly drop his towel, and shiver in the cold of the night (England, even in the summer, was a chilly land). Sebastian would tuck him into bed, nude and still damp from the bath, and then carefully blow out the light.

He'd draw the curtains, too, just to make Ciel as blind as possible. The glow of his eyes- not quite red, but not quite any other color either- would be visible. (Just to make sure, Ciel poked his head out from his covers: no Sebastian, so he could roll over onto his belly and thrust against the sheets quite shamelessly.) There would be a soft sound, the slip and brush of good fabric, and abruptly the covers would be pulled back and then up again.

Ciel's bed was wide, he knew. So he'd have to move to find the demon in it- the demon who would let his master come to him. 'Sebastian,' he'd ask, a bit questioningly. The only answer he would get would be the abrupt vanishing of those bright eyes- but Sebastian would be radiating heat like a furnace, so he'd only have closed his eyes. (Ciel shut his own again, tucking his pillow over his head and sliding his palm over himself, again and again and again.)

He'd let Ciel touch him- feel his chest, narrow and thin and lithe as a cat's, touch his arms, deceptively finely muscled, lace a hand with his. With a chuckle, he'd use that laced hand to pin Ciel's arm above his head. There would be no indication of what he was planning but the rustle of sheets. And, suddenly, there would be a tongue on his throat, and then teeth, and then he'd more suddenly find himself being bitten there. Not hard, not enough to choke. Just enough to mark him. _This boy has bedded with a demon_, Ciel would know it meant. (If he swallowed hard enough, Ciel imagined he could clear himself of the fact that his heart had leapt into his mouth- he'd heard steps outside his bedroom, and the faint glow of a candle peeped under the crack of the doors.)

Before he knew it, they would be entangled, his legs around Sebastian's waist, his prick tight against the other man's belly and his own. Sebastian would be kissing him again, arched over him as if Ciel was prey and he a lion. (The lamb and the lion, Ciel thought with a shaky breath as he watched the light under his door grow brighter, were _not_ meant that way.) Sebastian would be using his free hand to lift Ciel's hips up, pinning him in such a provocative pose- shoulders pinned, hips forced up, head tossed back- as to put the smut-peddlers' stuff to shame.

The position would mean that every time Sebastian's hips jerked forward, Ciel would be able to feel him against his body, feel his full cock against his rear. Soon he'd be moaning for something, anything, dizzy with the blood gone from his head, suffocating in the heat that fogged him. (The dizziness was real, though- Ciel was slowly shifting himself to a more decent pose, still huddled under the covers and the pillows, watching his door's handle turn slowly.)

If he begged enough, pleaded wildly and clung and kissed and writhed, Sebastian would set him down. He'd ignore Ciel's wild question and shift, sliding over to the edge of his bed and fetching something- a vial. His eyes would go very wide- he would know what it was for, and his knees would go weak. Sebastian would offer it, an unspoken question, as he turned to lie on his side and then his back. He'd still be watching his master like a- a- (Ciel's mind stuttered a bit as Sebastian himself came through his door, one candle in use. He had to wonder why he even bothered to use it, given Sebastian's proven ability to see in the dark.)

-Anyway, he'd be watching Ciel closely. And Ciel, nervous and uncertain, would uncork the vial and remark in surprise when some of the oil slid out and onto the fingers he was using to hold it. He'd go to wipe it off and Sebastian would claim that slippery hand- tug it to the remarkable rise of his prick. (Thinking about touching Sebastian's erect prick while the actual Sebastian adjusted the covers about his shoulders to cover him more firmly was definitely the oddest sense of discombobulation Ciel had experienced yet.) Unable to resist his own curiosity- the hand guiding his own would be light enough to resist, oh yes- he'd sweep his fingers up and down Sebastian's length, feeling what differences another man's organ had.

It would make the demon groan, arch. His eyes would flutter shut- an unusually feminine motion from the butler that, often, exuded the very aura of a forceful, confident Victorian gentleman. (Speaking of unexpected, Sebastian was petting Ciel's head absently as he set down the candelabra on the bedside table. Did he always do that when he thought Ciel was asleep?) Ciel would take this as a sign to continue. He'd coat his hands in that vaguely mint-scented oil- if it was catnip he'd really pitch a fit- and pet his demon throughly enough that his cock would be slick as anything. Sebastian, tied to a master that was until recently remarkably prepubescent, would groan and buck and grip at the sheets, taking all that he was given and never asking for more- typical.

So Ciel would pause to think- how did this go? (He struggled very hard not to startle when Sebastian leaned down, mouth to his ear, a hand on his back to pin him to the bed. Really- he had to know he was awake, yes?) And when Sebastian could tell that he wasn't getting any more attention for right now, he would slit his eyes opened- reluctantly, as if he was a cat that had been getting the ear-rubbing of its life until a moment ago. He would suggest, lightly, some things that Ciel could do with himself. Ciel would seize on the last idea, the one Sebastian had glossed over, just to be contrary. So he'd slick his fingers in oil again, and reach back, and shudder as he slid a finger into his own rear.

Sebastian's eyes would open very wide- well, for him. Ciel would watch this with half-lidded eyes, brow knotted at the strange feeling of something up his arse. He'd get used to it- slowly, pinned by Sebastian's stare as firmly as if it was a physical force- and slide a second finger in, and then a third. He'd gasp and shudder, trying to understand what the purpose was here aside from the obvious goal. And Sebastian, perhaps sensing that question (that was- a _kiss- _being pressed to his ear, the hand on his back moving in slow, sensual circles- ?), would pull and maneuver his master until he'd gotten the vial into his own hands. Ciel would pull his fingers from himself with a grunt and, nudged by Sebastian's words, rise to straddle him.

Seated like that Ciel would feel the rigidness of Sebastian's prick against his own, but- with a little tap of the other's fingers, he'd rise up. He'd raise himself up onto his knees and find he could go no further without some shifting to get his feet under him, and then Ciel would feel a finger pressing into him, one that was larger than his own. (The bed dipped under Sebastian's weight as he perched himself mere millimeters from Ciel himself, lips still touching his ear, hand still firm on his back.)

Before he'd know it that finger would be inside him, and he'd cry out faintly. Then a second finger would slip in, and he'd writhe back and forth, torn between what he wanted and what his body was telling him. And then, then, a third finger would slip in and that would be _entirely too much_- but Sebastian would know that, somehow, and would drag his fingers forward in an obscene, slow stroke forward that would make- something inside him- draw as tight as a bow- (he didn't know what was happening in his own fantasy, Ciel realized with a sudden chill of confusion) Ciel would scream, or try to- he'd find Sebastian's hand in his mouth, muffling his cry.

'We mustn't wake the others, young master,' he would say, and in an abrupt, strange motion swing them around so he was leaning over Ciel (why was Sebastian on top of him in his own mind, Ciel wondered, but he went with it). 'Roll over, Ciel,' Sebastian would tell him, eyes flaring into a harder red for just a moment. That change in color would make Ciel hesitate (he had a sudden reeling, wrenching sensation of hands on him, over him, forcing him, holding him down-). Sebastian would see that, knowing, as he always seemed to, that something ailed his master, though not what. (Was Sebastian whispering something to him? He couldn't hear if he was, so he must not have been intended to hear it.)

'Young master,' Sebastian would say, perhaps a touch uncertainly. (What was he uncertain about? Ciel didn't know, found that odd, enjoyed it- all in the same flicker of a thought.) He would assess their positions and do as he'd been asked. Slowly. Just letting them both know that he was doing it because he _felt_ like it. The chuckle Sebastian would let loose would inform Ciel that yes, he knew precisely what his master had been saying. Would inform Ciel that he appreciated it, even.

'Breathe in and out,' Sebastian would say, and adjust himself. Ciel would feel the giving pressure of the head of his prick first, pressing in gradually. He'd gasp and wriggle and arch: it was much larger than fingers, much harder to take. (Sebastian, still at his ear, swallowed. Hard. An idea, impossible and strange, occurred to Ciel at the sound.) Sebastian's hands would close around his hips, jerking him up so he could lean against his demon's chest. Ciel's arms would slide back so he could rest his palms on Sebastian's hips as well- two, after all, could play at that game.

And as this happened, he'd feel the unending, strange feeling of being pierced, being opened and invaded and possessed. He wouldn't mind, though- in a way, Sebastian was the only one who had already had that pleasure, albeit in a different form entirely. When Sebastian was fully seated in him, when Ciel could feel the hard bones of his hips, the smooth expanse of his abdomen, against his own rear, he'd try to drop down to all fours. But Sebastian would cluck his tongue softly (and so Sebastian did, and even groaned too- the hand on Ciel's back shuddered), locking an arm around Ciel's chest to keep him up.

Caught like this, he'd find himself being drawn further back. Sebastian would be resting on his knees, slanted at just such a way that Ciel was on top but _he_ was in control. (He didn't even know a position like that _existed_- in fact, now that he thought about it, all Ciel was fully aware of was that you could bugger somebody like Sebastian was-wasn't doing to him now, and that only in the most rudimentary fashion- insert, thrust, so on.) Before he could help himself he would snort, comment that it was typical of him. It was, of course.

Content that his young master had adjusted to his presence within him, Sebastian would start to move. He'd thrust into Ciel's body with an effortless grace that would confirm, more than any kisses could, that _oh_, he _indeed_ knew what he was doing. Every thrust would hit that white-hot spot in him, teasing Ciel into a sympathetic sort of down-thrust that would leave him breathless, moaning, begging- base. (The hand on his back tightened, still afflicted with the occasional tremor.)

Sebastian wouldn't be doing much better. His eyes would have slid shut again. Ciel would long, deeply, to be able to see his demon's face- to watch his expression slide into this forbidden, wanton sort of passion. (At Ciel's ear, Sebastian licked his lips, inhaled shakily. Stayed.) But soon he'd be a bit too occupied to think about much of anything. Filled to the brim, almost overflowing, Ciel would lean his head back and tuck his face against Sebastian's neck. His legs would seek some kind of purchase, would find themselves gripping at the outsides of Sebastian's thighs as if he were riding some kind of wild, unbroken thoroughbred.

Sebastian would find the balance, somehow, to take a hand and wrap it around Ciel's prick. It would be too much- all too much- in the best way he'd ever known; Ciel would wail and arch back, coming with a ferocity he thought reserved for winter storms. (Sebastian nuzzled against the side of his face with such affection that Ciel had to wonder if his personality had suddenly been swapped with that of an affectionate moggie.)

As he reclined, exhausted and overstimulated, on his demon's body, the man himself would finish- (still nuzzling, though his lips were sliding along the edge of Ciel's ear now) deep in him. He'd roll them over and tuck his face against the crook of Ciel's neck (very odd, this was all very odd). There'd be an abrupt shimmy of his hips as he pulled out, which would startle a groan and a gasp from Ciel (what? thought Ciel, why would pulling out do that?). With the contented noise of a man thrown to sin before the earth was born, Sebastian would settle down over Ciel (_never pinned you as the snuggling type_, Ciel shot out on an educated guess). He'd shift, adjust- and then fall asleep over him, something Ciel had never seen his butler do.

"You never do know, young master," said Sebastian by way of explanation. "What sort of things will be called by the wispy dreams of that sort."

"Demons," Ciel said grumpily, irritated and embarrassed at being caught at an imagining like that. A little surprised, too, that Sebastian had done it at all. He didn't know it was possible. "I'd wager demons."

"Oh, probably just one." Sebastian pulled himself away from Ciel and off his bed. He blew out the candle as he headed to the door. Ciel stared after him sleepily, feeling as well-sated as if the half-dream he'd had had been real.

As he rolled over to actually go to sleep, Ciel paused. Something- well, _wispy_- was nudging at his thoughts. He allowed himself to be drawn along, curious.

The image that slid into his mind gently as a letter placed was of Sebastian and himself. He was older- he looked more like around the age Sebastian appeared. And he was- Ciel swallowed. Oh. _Oh._ He was tied and bound and blindfolded, Sebastian bent over him on all fours and riding him savagely. Each thrust sounded a slap of flesh, skin on skin. Ciel didn't really _like_ the idea of being tied up- or down, as it were- but this older him certainly seemed to, judging by the rigid jut of his cock between his legs.

Ciel thought for a moment, watching this scene with the casual interest of a window shopper. Finally he added one detail- a collar, made of the finest leather, the richest velvet, fortified and boned with the strongest steel. This he wrapped around the dream-Sebastian's neck, and the soft, thick leather lead attached he used to tie his older-self's limbs.

The sound of Sebastian dropping the candelabra in the hallway was deeply satisfying.


End file.
